3 Tips for Handling Intrusive Questions Graciously

We may have different pressure points, but I’m guessing we’ve all experienced it. People ask us questions that make us feel exposed. Ever been there?

I have the classic packaging of albinism–a striking lack of pigment in hair, skin, and eyes–so I’ve had a lifetime of opportunity to figure out how to respond to the comments and questions of inquisitive people. I’ve come a long way in learning to do it graciously, but I’ve also blown it more times than I can count. 

A stranger in a crowded store harangues me with questions until every customer freezes in place and strains an ear to listen. A casual acquaintance drops what I call the A-bomb[1] into an otherwise pleasant group conversation, causing an awkward silence. Worst of all, someone staring intently asks me to turn just a little more toward the light or to remove my sunglasses so that he or she can get a better look.

In my personal shorthand, I refer to such prying people as IQAs, or Intrusive Question Askers, and my hunch is that we all face them, not just those of us with albinism. It’s not that they’re bad people; it’s just that they ask carelessly, without regard for how their expressions of awestruck wonder and fascination might make a person feel, especially in a crowd.

Plenty of well-meaning people have cajoled me to consider that the IQAs don’t mean any harm. They have good intentions. They’re just curious. They want to learn. Yes, OK, I get it.

But regardless of intent and curiosity, IQAs can create some very embarrassing situations, often publicly. Some of their questions are appallingly inconsiderate–far too personal or forward even to be repeated here. Adults with genuine interest (and good manners) know that they can seek answers at any time through a simple internet search without causing the slightest awkwardness for anyone. When considerate people have questions, they rarely ask, neither directly nor beyond the bonds of a trusting and close relationship. IQAs, in contrast, zero in, pounce at the first opportunity, and let fly any questions and observations that pop into their heads. Maybe you’ve encountered some of them yourself.

If you have ususual physical characteristics or facts of life that make you stand out, you may know exactly who I’m talking about. If you have a disability or rare genetic condition, if your ethnic heritage includes physical features distinct from the majority, or if you have a non-native accent or any other distinguishing trait, then you, too, have probably fielded plenty of inappropriate personal questions–some that bring on an inexplicable sting of shame. And maybe, like me, you have not always known how to respond.

A Layered Dilemma. One challenge in fending off IQAs is that not all uncomfortable questioning is inappropriate. The question itself, the relationship, and the social context all matter. Who’s asking, what, and where? A friend who seeks privately to understand or someone with a personal need for support in the same area (say, a fellow parent of a child with albinism) is quite different from a presumptuous stranger who creates a scene in the checkout line.

Another challenge is that we have several options when intrusive questions come onto our radars, and many of them are bad. We could just walk away, though experience has taught us that IQAs may chase us down. We could ignore the question, though they usually don’t take the hint. We could even cave to the temptation to make them feel ashamed for saying something so off-putting, but we’d rather take the high road. 

The high road isn’t easy, either. It’s tricky enough when our goal is only self-protection: simply to shut down the prying so that the awkwardness can stop. But if we live by a resolve to treat others with respect, then formulating a mutually dignifying response with personal boundaries becomes more complicated.

Consider my own faith commitment. It includes the directive that I should love my neighbor as myself[2] and makes clear that those who offend me are my neighbors, too. I don’t mind admitting that this principle isn’t easy with intrusive people.

On one hand, I want boundaries. Loving my neighbor as myself doesn’t mean that I have to consent to an invasion. Unwelcome questions and scrutiny, as if I’m a science-fair exhibit, can really rattle me, and I’m sure I don’t have to discuss private matters on the spot merely to satisfy idle curiosity. The challenge is maintaining that reasonable boundary without resorting to the range of expedient but disrespectful options I picked up quite naturally as a fifth-grader. I can’t just tell an IQA to buzz off or to mind his own business, can I?

On the other hand, I want to be gracious. Just because someone makes me feel uncomfortable by stepping into vulnerable territory does not mean that I ought to return the injury. In preserving my own sense of dignity, I don’t want to insult the asker or to make him or her feel crushingly embarrassed for asking. I’ve done that a time or two, and it feels terrible. The challenge in my desire to be gracious is that I have to be careful not to be so agreeable that I end up with no boundary at all.

How can I head off an embarrassing interrogation and still be kind? How can I avoid receiving or giving offense? I have learned the hard way that without a plan, my only options are to be invaded, rude, or afraid of the interaction altogether, and I don’t like any of those.

Better Options. Over the years, I’ve made an effort to come up with some better options for preserving my privacy and extending grace. The two are not mutually exclusive, and I’ve found ways to have both.

Here are three tips I’ve learned with my friends in the albinism community and from decades of my own trial and error. Could these suggestions help you respond to the IQAs in your unique circumstances?

1. Control the language. It may sound like I’m making a mountain out of a molehill or fixating on political correctness, but this principle has proved its value many times over.

I will not answer the question, “Are you an albino?” (which is the aforementioned A-bomb for many people with albinism, including me). I just won’t do it. Period.

I respond politely and firmly, reminding myself to smile and extend warmth rather than defensiveness. “Well,” I say, “I’m a person (pause) with albinism,” or I simply ask, “Are you asking whether I have albinism?”

“Are you asking whether I have albinism?”

Every time the unwelcome word enters the conversation, I redirect. So if they say, “Oh, I once knew this albino guy–,” then I interject casually, “Oh, OK, so you once knew a guy who had albinism,” and then let the conversation continue.

The redirect usually just works without fanfare. I’m not confrontational. I’m not rude. I just know and communicate the parameters of the conversation that I am willing to have. The IQA picks up the gentle suggestion, and no one gets embarrassed.

If you’re a fellow person with albinism and the A-word doesn’t bother you, great. I’ll tolerate it respectfully if you choose to use it. For me, it’s still so loaded with middle-school baggage that I cringe when I hear it. It even bugs me grammatically (but I’m a nerd).

If you’re associated with another distinct group, you’re probably tracking with me. You may have your own loaded words (maybe the N-word, for example?), and you know the nuances of that fraught terminology, which can bother some insiders but not others. It is perfectly understandable that people with shared experiences would handle their own loaded words with care according to group (and personal) histories and sensitivities.

Everyone is an outsideer to some groups, and it’s helpful to remember that outsiders rarely understand all that shapes a group’s word choices. For example, some may not understand my aversion to albino, or they may feel confused to discover that even albinism insiders have differing preferences. Caring for people includes attempting to use the terminology that they prefer as a gesture of respect, even when we don’t understand it. It also includes giving outsiders to our group the benefit of the doubt when they transgress our preferences. We can all easily offend with the best of intentions, and we may never even realize it.

So if your uniqueness is an area in which you are extremely private or if you struggle to talk about it with outsiders at all, then boundaries about troublesome words can really help, especially if you can remember also to be gracious when people make mistakes.

Learning to take control of the words of the conversation in an amicable way was an absolute first step for me in figuring out how to improve my response to intrusive questions. I can converse pleasantly without being defined in a way that makes me writhe, and I’d say that’s a reasonable basic standard. Wouldn’t you agree?

2. Expose the effect. If a stranger or casual acquaintance bursts out with an intrusive question, I usually respond with a little more pizazz befitting the occasion (e.g., baseball game versus schwanky reception).

I might toss back a lighthearted but direct, “Wow, that’s a bold question!” Or I might extend my hand and say, “I’m not sure we’ve met,” calling attention in a friendly way to the fact that a fairly personal question has just been asked of a complete stranger.

“I’m not sure we’ve met.”

Then I follow it up with an introduction. “I’m Elizabeth. What’s your name?” followed by another relevant questiom: “Does your child play on this team, too?”

In my experience, the benefit of indirectly addressing the forwardness is three-fold. First, it tells the askers that the topic is perhaps more private than they expected, so they tread a bit more carefully. Second, it conveys that I’m not just a category but a real person with more than one trait. Finally, it puts me in (or closer to) the driver’s seat so that I can more easily steer the conversation away from overly personal topics in a tone of goodwill. It at least gets us talking on level ground in a two-way conversation rather than a one-way interview focused on me.

Assertiveness isn’t aggression. I have found that it is actually a hand-grip that helps me to be both gracious and guarded. If you have a hard time being either assertive or gracious, consider rehearsing such scenarios with a trusted friend. Confidence takes practice.

3. Just say no. Sometimes, if someone keeps pressing on topics I don’t want to discuss, I state simply that I’m not going there. “I’m not going to talk about that right now.” I don’t offer to explain why (though I do try to be kind). No means no. After all, I can certainly decline to participate in conversations about my own body.

“I’m not going to talk about that right now.”

Then I deflect to a new topic. “Were you at that intense game last week?”

I’m not rejecting the person, just the topic.

~~~~~~~~~~

By this point in our uniqueness journeys, we can often spot the IQAs ahead of time. We know the looks and the moves. So do our loved ones. Sometimes my husband will give me a subtle heads-up: “Sweetie, incoming. Just to your left.”

Maybe like me, you’ll benefit from using those moments to plan a gracious response within the boundaries of your choosing. Control the language, expose the effect, or just say no.

We don’t have to answer intrusive questions, and I doubt we’ll often regret responding with kindness.

Have you found helpful ways to manage the tension between grace and boundaries? I’d love to hear from you!

    

~~~~~~~

  

Note: For more information on albinism or on an outstanding organization that serves them and their loved ones through information, fellowship, and support, visit the National Organization for Albinism and Hypopigmentation (NOAH) at www.albinism.org, and view an unforgettable promotional video of the NOAH Virtual Choir at https://youtu.be/K6jmsjwM95Y?si=2xyQwIQMKMYCkGA4.

     

---

[1] By “A-bomb,” I mean albino, a word I don’t use.

[2] Mark 12:31, Holy Bible.